


for a while now

by smartlike



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:29:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartlike/pseuds/smartlike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a shitty motel-- the sheets smell musty, there's a stain like a brown cloud all along the bottom off the shower and the tv only shows static. Gunn's knee hurts like a bitch-- he twisted it hard running from the alley, fire falling like rain all around him and all he could think was "can't they do something original?". The thought had been in a martini-dry British accent, and Gunn lets it run through his head a few more times, but now it's just his own voice and he can't make it anything else, so he stops trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for a while now

**Author's Note:**

> Post-series, so the character death is not a surprise, I assume, but still tagged it.
> 
> Originally posted at http://www.obsessivetendencies.net/am/

It's a shitty motel-- the sheets smell musty, there's a stain like a brown cloud all along the bottom off the shower and the tv only shows static. Gunn's knee hurts like a bitch-- he twisted it hard running from the alley, fire falling like rain all around him and all he could think was "can't they do something original?". The thought had been in a martini-dry British accent, and Gunn lets it run through his head a few more times, but now it's just his own voice and he can't make it anything else, so he stops trying. 

He stands up and it feels like his leg is splitting in two. He figures it needs to be iced, but the ice machine is all the way down the hall next to the vending machine that stole Gunn's quarters when he tried to buy a bag of Doritios earlier. There'd been a sign plastered across the glass that read, "management is not responsible for lost coins", so even if he could make it there, Gunn has no faith that he'd actually ge anything frozen. He heads to the bathroom instead, where he soaks a dingy white towel in cold water and wrings it out. He hobbles back to the bed and wraps the cloth over his knee. It'll have to do for now. Not that he has any idea how long 'now' is gonna be, but, like fire from the sky, that's nothing new either.

Gunn fingers the remote control, fingers sliding over the worn buttons, but he doesn't point it at the tv. He laughs and it's the worst sound he's heard in a week, dry and cracked and it hurts his throat like reopening a cut. He spins the remote in his hand and points it toward his head, wondering if he could change the channel on his brain, flip past all the memories and find the mental equivalent of the seventh late-night rerun of _SportsCenter_ or the religious freak on cable access. It's actually easy to think of his head like a tv with a station for every person who isn't in this motel with him and in the days since he left L.A., he's flipped back and forth through them all until there's nothing left to see. 

Gunn points the remote at the real television sitting on a rickety table in the corner, the screen covered in dust except for one swipe where someone tried to clean it off with their hand. It flicks on with a shudder and Gunn thinks he can smell the electricity. In the static on the screen, Gunn sees a memory of Gwen and there's almost a smile at that or at least not a frown because Gunn doesn't know what happened to her and right now, that's the best he can say about anyone. She fades and Gunn stares, eyes open and he doesn't think about it, but he makes a decision not to blink. His eyes water and the static swims, the sound buzzing against his ears and Wes is there, dark hair and rolling eyes and looking none too concerned about the weaponry jutting from his sleeve. 

Gunn doesn't know the memory, can't place it and there's not even an emotion in his head to go with it. He can see the wry smile and smell sharp tea with no sugar and taste blood from a cut just inside Wes's lower lip, but no matter how long Gunn stares at the broken tv, no matter how much his eyes burn there's nothing but the picture. Eventually Gunn blinks and the wetness that collected in his eyes drips down his cheek. Gunn drops the remote to the bed and lets himself fall asleep sitting up.


End file.
